a study in the french apéro

Ahhhh springtime in Paris…the soft scent of hyacinth wafting over the Seine, sunlight dappling through the chestnut trees onto the grands boulevards, laughter pouring out into the night from sidewalk cafes, espadrilles, and of course…apéro.

Despite the fact that this spring has resembled a dismal Seattle March (read-horizontal rain, wind and wearing the same thing over and over and over, because during that brief moment of sun you thought it was high time to put away all clothing for inclement weather and take out your adorable sun-dresses, sandals, sun cream…and did I mention the umbrella?), our two days of sunshine and carefully controlled greenery has instilled in everyone the desire to do one thing and one thing only.

 Ze Apéro. Short for apéritif…or  a pre-dinner drink (‘ a pair of teef? No fanks, I got me own.’). These wonderful apéros  include a pleasant area outside (quai de la Seine, Buttes Chaumont, Tuileries…anywhere with grass or someplace in full sun.), an early start time, cherry tomatoes (every time…) and of course… the glue that holds France together…WINE! Preferably a chilled bottle of  rosé.

These apéros are shockingly like American picnics (minus the waldorf salad). However, there are no ham and cheese sandwhiches at these affairs. Oh non!  French picnics are either incredibly elaborate with a bevy of homemade quiches, cherry tomatoes (of course) olives, bread, cheese, charcuterie, strawberries, and one or many bottles of that heavenly beverage...wine...or these picnics are lame-o, but still inclusive of the major apéro prerequisites: (all together now)  wine, cherry tomatoes, and yeah, not going to lie to you... pringles (once you pop you just can't stop).

These peek-neeks are also a great way to make friends. At the peak of the season (day upon day of glorious weather, pigeon poo be-smattering the grands boulevards, dapplings of sunlight giving the pasty city dwellers a nice early tan) everyone is on their way to an apéro, and miraculously everyone forgets something, and it is always an object intrinsic to operation-a-pair-of-teef, like a bottle opener, plastic cups, or a… bottle opener. So in lieu of opening your bottle with a swift whack with a shoe, someone (or 8 people) form a line asking to use the sacred opener of bottles. And voila! Friends. Kind of. For like three minutes. Five if they can’t get the foil off of the wine bottle and need cups.

Regardless, there is no better way of consuming copious amounts of wine and cherry tomatoes in the great outdoors, imbibing in Springtime with the writhing masses of Paris,or listening to fellow peek-neek-errrrs laughing into the night than grabbing a bottle (or three) and heading for the nearest grassy area to appreciate being together.

Just don't forget the cherry tomatoes.